


A Different Kind of Heat

by strawberryfiend



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: (kind of), Established Relationship, F/F, Fluff, Massage, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn with Feelings, Sauna, Teasing, Vaginal Fingering, both sexual and just bugging your best friend you’re in love with about her sex hair, f/f - Freeform, misuse of monastery facilities, ”very professional working relationship” I mean
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-21
Updated: 2020-10-21
Packaged: 2021-03-09 06:29:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,514
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27129259
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/strawberryfiend/pseuds/strawberryfiend
Summary: The knights of Seiros’ most notorious “gal pals” make incredibly inappropriate use of workplace facilities and Shamir provides some dubious medical assistance.
Relationships: Catherine/Shamir Nevrand
Comments: 2
Kudos: 45





	A Different Kind of Heat

**Author's Note:**

> I got kind of sad rereading the same (but beautifully written) like 10 pieces of cathmir smut so I took it upon myself to contribute   
> Shamir and Catherine get steamy in a cold sauna and Shamir makes Thai massage (seriously it’s amazing but the kind of contortions it puts you through is Not a turn on) the least sexy form of massage, kind of sexy.

Most nights, a bit of time sweating in a steamy room is enough to relieve the various aches and pains Catherine picks up knocking heads together for the Knights of Seiros. The heat and usually leaves her head spinning, or maybe it’s having her partner in crime (stopping?) sitting next to her, with sweat plastering her already thin undershirt to her body. 

The steam is starting to dissipate. A chill creeps into the air, but the sauna still hasn’t done much to relieve the deep, persistent ache in Catherine’s hip that’s accompanied by a clicking noise whenever she walks. It’s the second stupidest way she’s gotten injured at work, getting thrown into a stable wall by a spooked warhorse. Who apparently thought a field mouse running past was the end of its dumb... horsey life. Catherine winces, pacing and stretching her leg into increasingly painful contortions in an effort to force the joint back into position.

Shamir grimaces. 

“You’re making it worse.” 

“I can feel my hip pop out of place every time I walk, it’s gonna drive me insane if I don’t- _ haaaaaaaa”  _ Catherine hisses through her teeth, but continues despite Shamir’s pained expression. 

“Catherine! Stop- If you keep doing that you’re going to break something.” Shamir grabs her shoulders, guiding her back down to sit on the sauna bench. 

“Here. Lie on your back.” 

Catherine obliges, propping her self up with one arm to watch Shamir sit between her legs. 

“What are you gonna do? Massage my hip?”

“Ha, you wish. But kind of. Back in Dagda, medics used this kind of -ugh, what would I call it?-” Shamir frowns in concentration. “Assisted stretching I guess, to treat chronic pain. We had a ton of old geezers that fought off one invasion or another and got stuck with injuries that didn’t heal. Phantom limb pain, tight muscles, whatever.’

She pauses. 

‘Guess that kind of stress never really leaves your body.”

Catherine tilts her head, trying to commit the details to memory. Shamir talking about her homeland is almost stranger than Seteth cracking a smile. 

“Huh. Didn’t think you knew that much about treating injuries.” 

Shamir scoffs. 

“It pays off when I’m around somebody as reckless as you.”

Catherine can hear her heart hammering in her ears as she watches Shamir maneuver her left leg so it falls to the outside, knee bent. 

“Seriously, lie down. I might pull something I shouldn’t if you’re in the wrong position.”

That gets Catherine to listen. Or maybe having her partner’s hands this close to her thighs is making eye contact a little too exciting. 

“Is this some elaborate plot to break my legs and finally escape the church?”

Shamir grabs Catherine’s ankle, bracing her feet against Catherine’s inner thigh.

“Yep.”

The pressure is welcome at first, but burns into a burning, tingly kind of stretch. Just before the sensation is unbearable, Catherine feels an satisfying  crack as her hip joint realigns itself.

She moans. 

Loudly. 

Shamir’s face is impassive. “Move your leg. It should stop clicking, at least.”

“Oh, uh- cool.”

Catherine pulls her knees into her chest, staying curled up for a second, like a turtle, or an egg, maybe. Her heart is still pounding hard enough to feel against her thighs. She stretches both legs straight up, and swings them down, using the momentum to pull herself into a sitting position. Shamir is watching her with that penetrating hunter’s gaze, which never helps her nerves. 

“Well?”

Catherine blinks. 

“Oh! uh- hip. Right. No clicky noise. Not stiff. Feels great.” She stutters, making eye contact for a split second. Have Shamir’s eyes caught the light like that- no, focus. Catherine’s gaze trails down, looking for something less... intense. She finds herself studying a frayed thread on the low neckline of Shamir’s undershirt. Wait shit no that’s her- 

“Is there something else you need...’ Shamirpauses, raising her eyebrows pointedly. “Taken care of?”

A snort of laughter escapes from Catherine’s chest. 

“Sure, doc. You might need to perform a full body physical though-”

Catherine is interrupted by Shamir’s hand on the back of her head, pulling her into a long, deep kiss. Shamir breaks away, pulling her undershirt off. 

“Shut up and take your clothes off.”

Catherine stares at her, wide eyed and slack jawed. Her stunned expression makes Shamir hesitate. She backs away, face burning with shame- no, she’s in a sauna it’s just _hot_ and Catherine- Catherine is enthusiastically shedding her own undergarments. So, they are on the same page.

Catherine wraps her arms around Shamir’s waist, pulling her closer. 

“You’re scary you’re annoyed.”

Shamir presses her face into Catherine’s chest, grumbling. “Sorry.”

Catherine uses Shamir’s lack of resistance to pull her down,flopping onto the wooden bench with a small wince. 

“It’s ok. You know... It kinda turns me on.”Catherine mock whispers, one hand trailing down to squeeze Shamir’s ass. 

Shamir scrambles to push herself up. She finds Catherine’s wrists, and pins them behind her head. For Catherine, there’s no better view than Shamir on top of her in a  compromising position, somewhere between combative and... aroused. 

If she hasn’t pissed her off too much. 

Shamir loosens her grip to interlock her fingers with Catherine’s. She leans in, Catherine can feel her lips brush against her ear. 

“Are you trying to tell me you like it rough,  _ Thunder Catherine? _ ”

Yep, definitely aroused. The low growl in Shamir’s voice and way she stretches out the syllables in ‘thunder’ makes the eye roll of a title sound sexy, somehow. It’s terrifying. 

“I don’t really care what you do to me when you’re this pretty.”

Shamir snorts, and Catherine takes advantage of her lapse in concentration to slide her hands up Shamir’s arms and cup her face. She doesn’t need to pull Shamir in to kiss her again, the heat of Shamir’s lips crashing into hers. Catherine tangles her fingers in Shamirs hair, tugging and hoping to feel the vibration of Shamir moaning into her open mouth. 

Hair pulling always pays off for Catherine. Sometimes she tries to figure out what exactly Shamir does with her tongue on Catherine’s neck that feels so  damn  _good_ , but between that and the electric buzz that jolts down her spine when shamir’s teeth graze her earlobe- studying technique can wait. She shivers as Shamir trails kisses down to her breasts, spending an agonizingly long time sucking one nipple, then the other, then moving back up to drag her tongue along Catherine’s collarbone, and so on until she can feel a slickness as Catherine grinds against her thigh. It’s a bit of a mind game- the way Shamir starts off passionate, explosive, then tapers into a steady burn. 

Catherine can never decide if she hates or loves it- the waiting. Either way, she never wants it to stop. Sparring with Shamir is fun, wrestling her into bed is even better - but neither of those can really compare to how it feels to have her pulling closer instead of away. Maybe Catherine’s relative sexual inexperience is an asset here, maybe there’s some innocent sort of charm that convinces Shamir to let her guard down for a little while. When Shamir presses herself into Catherine’s side, one hand on Catherine’s chest and the other tracing paths on the inside of her thighs, the feather-light touch and sheer _tenderness_ of the motion makes Catherine’s breath catch in her throat. 

“Hey.” Shamir’s hand settles into a comforting pressure on her hip.

“Do you need me to stop?” There’s asoftness to the words. They take a minute to drift into focus. 

“No, Goddess  _ please  _ keep going.” Catherine can’t help but whine a little. She can feel Shamir smile against her neck. 

“Mm. You must be serious, using the Goddess’s name in vain.” 

Shamir is still relieved to find Catherine spread her legs to give her easier access.She starts slowly, barely touching Catherine, gliding over warm, slick flesh, circling the sensitive area around her clit but never touching it directly. 

_“I said please...”_ There’s an unabashed note of desperation in Catherine’s voice.

Shamir responds by pushing her middle and ring finger inside her, slightly harder than intended. 

The low moan of relief from Catherine indicates the force is not unwelcome. Encouraged, Shamir presses her fingers up, curling them forward to find the spot that makes Catherine clap a hand over her mouth to muffle a sharp cry. Shamir keeps a steady rhythm, letting Catherine’s hips rock forward into her hand, clit pressing into the heel of her palm.

  
All those years Shamir spent holding back loaded bowstrings has left her with some considerable arm strength and staying power. Watching Catherine’s abs tense as she arches her back in an effort to get Shamir to thrust deeper is about as satisfying as the  _ thunk _ of an arrow hitting its target. It’s hard to compare the two when this job is so easy to finish, though. there’s no effort really required to fuck someone who’s so _wet_ and really, doing most of the work grinding against her hand. That doesn’t take the satisfaction away from feeling Catherine clench tight around her fingers, sticky thighs pressing against her wrist with a force that should be painful. But, that’s a minor detail when it’s accompanied by Catherine gasping Shamir’s name, mouth open, a series of tiny moans that taper off to leave the sound of both of them breathing heavily, blood still rushing in their ears.

  
The dark wooden panels and soft glow of the dying coals makes the darkness of the sauna feel protective, somehow. Gentler than the outside world.

Catherine flops back on the sauna’s  bench, chest heaving. She barely has time to miss the sensation of fullness before Catherine finds herself staring at Shamir, sucking the sticky mess off her own fingers. A whimper escapes Catherine. Shamir flashes her a particularly devastating crooked grin before exaggeratedly licking the back of her hand, which results a strangled noise that reminds Shamir of a drowning cat from Catherine. 

She bites her lip, shoulders shaking as she tries to hold in laughter. Catherine’s brow furrows. Her hair could be generously described as “ _windswept_ ” at the best of times, but the way it’s sticking straight up right- it’s kind of endearing. Shamir can’t resist messing it up further. 

“Hey!” 

Catherine scrunches her nose into a scowl. It’s the kind of pouty, childish anger she knows Shamir can’t take seriously.

“What’s so funny?” 

“Sorry- the noise you just made-”  Shamir gasps. “I thought you were gonna laugh or something but...” 

She explodes into giggles as Catherine socks her in the face with a sweaty undershirt, using the distraction to put Shamir in a headlock. 

“Hey- _getoffme_ -“

“Then stop being such so  _filthy!_ ” Shamir is hit with a wave of panic that quickly dissipates when Catherine takes the opportunity to ruffle her hair. She squeezes out from under Catherine’s arm, prompting a loud bark of laughter from her partner. 

“You should let me do your hair more often, the ‘struck by lightning’ look is really working for ya.” Shamir rolls her eyes, reaching behind Catherine to grab her cold, damp shorts. 

“if you think that’s bad, you should take a look at yourself.”

Catherine leans over, blocking her path with a quick kiss. She nuzzles her face into Shamir’s neck and wraps her arms around her waist. 

“Why are you in such a hurry?” She pulls her closer as Shamir makes a halfhearted attempt to escape. 

“‘Cuz it’s cold in here with no damn heat.”

“I can warm you up....” Catherine looks at her with a exaggerated, cheesy grin. 

“Tempting.” Shamir stretches over Catherine’s shoulder, trying to retrieve the rest of her clothes. 

“But we have an early patrol tomorrow, remember?” Catherine responds by planting a few quick kisses on her stomach.   


“The vein above Seteth’s eye might actually explode if we’re late.” 

“Hmmm.” Catherine sighs in mock defeat while Shamir pulls her undershirt back on. “Guess there’s no way around sharing a bed when we have to get up early. You always sleep in if I don’t wake you up.” 

Shamir grunts noncommittally. Catherine interrupts her doing up the ties on her shorts with a hug from behind. Shamir’s shoulders automatically drop their tension at the unfair amount of heat Catherine’s body always seems to emit. 

Shamir twists around to face her. 

“You’re not worried about Rhea...jumping to conclusions about us? Literally sleeping together?” 

“Nah. If anybody asks, it’s a team building exercise.” Catherine beams as Shamir snorts at the flimsy excuse. 

“Fine. I’ll kill you if you touch my bow again, though. I just got it repaired.” She lets Catherine grab her hand and start leading her to the sauna’s door. 

“Why would I bother touching your bow when I could-“

“Shut up! I’ll cut your hands off.” Catherine cackles while Shamir shoves her into the cold night air. 

“I’d glady give up my hands if the last thing they touch is yours.” Shamir’s boot slaps onto the cobbles, narrowly missing Catherine’s shoulder as she doubles over laughing. 

The commotion attracts the attention of a passing guard, whose lantern starts to bob in the direction of their muffled snickers. 

“OI! The monastery’s curfew is long past-“

Shamir curses under her breath, moving towards the knight’s barracks before she can hear the guard finish. She grabs Catherine’s hand, breaking into a sprint. A sudden, sharp turn behind a vacant merchants booth makes Catherine stumble, the extra momentum nearly sending both of them to the ground. They scramble behind the booth, holding their breath until the guard’s lantern light disappears around the corner, listening to his footsteps echo off the cobbles, then fade. 

It’s near impossible not to laugh as they carefully pick their way back to the barracks. Upon closing the door, they dissolve into a pile of giggles. Catherine braces the wall for support while Shamir slides down it, still wheezing. 

“holy shit-“ Catherine gasps. “That was scarier than a wyvern swinging a battlaxe.”

She drops to the ground to sit next to Shamir. 

“Wait, could their bony little arms even lift-never mind. If Seteth catches us, I think he might actually feed us to his wyvern.” Shamir heaves herself off the floor, offering a hand to Catherine. 

“Let’s go sleep for like an hour, before our patrol has to track down some mysterious, sloppy intruders.” Catherine grins. 

“Dunno if I’d mind running into them, I heard one is real cute.”

Catherine gladly laces her fingers through Shamir’s. She leads her back to Catherine’s broom closet of a room. 

The tiny bed isn’t too much of a problem when it means Catherine gets to sleep with Shamir’s face pressed into her chest, legs tangled together so she can barely tell where her body ends and Shamir’s begins. Tomorrow, the groans and the way she clings to Catherine, resisting the cold morning air until the last second will feel like a warm fire in Catherine’s chest for the rest of the day. That kind of heat could keep a hell of a lot of pain at bay. 


End file.
